


Rust in Peaces

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of Bumblebee leads to some interesting orders from Megatron after his funeral.</p><p>Content and Warnings: NON CANON CHARACTER DEATH (at least, apparently), digging up body in a graveyard late at night, dark and supernatural themes. No gore, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rust in Peaces

 Scavenger peered at the tombstones strewn through the human graveyard. In the pale light of Earth’s moon, they shone eerily, a thin layer of mist shimmering as it swirled around them. He shivered. So different this was, from the crypts on Cybertron.  
  
“We’re going to do some digging,” Scrapper had said, when Scavenger had asked why they were going to this Primus forsaken place in the middle of the night.  
  
Scavenger had been amazed. “What? We’re gonna dig up humans? But I thought they kinda fell apart after!” They went all messy, by all accounts. Even Hook, with his fascination for corpses of any kind, had expressed a distaste for the things.  
  
“Don’t be silly, Scavenger. We’re going to dig up an Autobot. The one who was buried last week. Hook needs to find out what he died of.”  
  
Scavenger had remembered then the ceremony on human TV, the huge hole in the ground, the elaborate coffin-box, the tearstained human and Autobot faces. Some Autobots had wanted to take Bumblebee back to Cybertron. But his human friend had said he had wanted to be placed in the soil of the planet he loved, to lie in peace, surrounded by his friends.   
  
It had been moving, actually. Scavenger’s optics had gone quite liquidy; although he had wiped them hastily because, Primus forbid, he wouldn’t have wanted the others to see that.   
  
There’d been a row. Starscream had wanted to launch an attack at the funeral. “Only a complete fool would not take advantage when we have them all together in one spot!” But Megatron had resisted, in his usual very physical fashion. Then Hook had been summoned. He had returned with an excited look on his face.  
  
And Hook appeared now, looming up from the darkness behind them. “What’s the hold up?” He smiled. “Surely the components of the most powerful robot in the universe aren’t afraid of a human boneyard?”  
  
 _But they were._ Scavenger could tell. Scrapper, ordinarily ahead of Hook with orders and organization, said nothing. And that was because there was _something in there,_ Scavenger was sure.   
  
Scavenger thought of the crypts on Cybertron, the stories which attended them, the ‘spirits’ that were supposed to hang around all places of death. In the swirling mist, he fancied he saw forms, drifting. He shivered. If only they could just forget this and go back to base.  
  
Hook, however, was undeterred. Vaulting over the low fence, he began to walk across the graveyard, picking his way between the gravestones. He looked wrong, somehow, misshaped; like a misplaced apparition. His hook clanked behind him, echoing eerily in the still air.   
  
The others glanced at each other. Then there was a hooting sound, followed by a flapping of wings as something took off form the bushes nearby. The three remaining Constructicons started; but it seemed to galvanize Scrapper into action. “C’mon!” he snapped. “Let’s get this over with!”   
  
.....  
  
The tomb was among trees, in an adjacent wood behind the main graveyard. A fence surrounded a large marble table like structure in the clearing, topped by a sculpture of Bumblebee’s alt form. At the foot of the tomb was a cross, on which Scavenger could make out words. _Bumblebee, Brave Soldier, beloved of Autobots and Humans forever,_ he read. _Rest in peace._  
  
Scavenger felt his spark surge. It was – beautiful. The structure was elegant, an obvious Grapple design which sparkled faintly as though lit from within. But that was only part of it. Far more moving were the thousands of wreaths, the flowers and other gifts of love and remembrance which lay scattered all around.   
  
Hook was staring at it. It seemed even he had his doubts. Rustlings came from the trees beyond, and a tremor went through them all. Scavenger’s circuits twisted. Apart from anything else, what if the Autobots showed up? Why hadn’t they brought Mixmaster and Long Haul?” Mix gets freaked out by places of death,” Scrapper had said. “He’ll be a liability. Long Haul should stay with him. We can call them. If we need them. If that will do any good ....”  
  
Bumblebee. Beloved among Autobots. Even Scavenger, the few times he had met him, had liked him. He’d been quite sad when he’d heard about the ‘illness.’ Scavenger’s energon chamber churned. Scrapper was right; even Devastator would be mush use against the fury there would be. Not to mention _whatever else_ might come out of those trees ....  
  
"D’you think we should actually _do_ this?” He whispered.  
  
……………  
  
Scrapper was extremely doubtful on that point. The thing was, they _had_ to do it. This was an _order_ from Megatron. Whatever Bumblebee had died of, it was vital that they know. Hook had agreed. He simply did not believe Ratchet’s explanation of a ‘congenital dormant malfunction’ which had suddenly come to light. And Hook was always right.  
  
It was a virus; Hook was certain. Their whole race could be at stake. Not to mention the advantages that could be had if he could isolate whatever it was and adapt it for warfare.  
  
But Primus – _this!_ Scrapper could feel the others’ fear, their sense of not rightness, prickling through the gestalt bond. Even Hook was on edge. Mixmaster, back at the base, was reacting uneasily, and Long Haul was nervous.   
  
And they were all looking at him! Questioning expressions were on their faces, as they waited for he, Scrapper, leader of the Constructicons, to give the order.  
  
Which he would, because didn’t he always? And because also, for Primus sake, what was the matter with them? There were no Autobot signatures, and that rustling which kept coming from the trees was only Earth creatures. Hook had been right, back there. They were _Devastator,_ for frags sake.   
  
The Constructicon leader determined to get a grip on things. He made a decision. “Let’s get on with it!” he snapped. “Bonecrusher!”  
  
That seemed to break the apparent transfixation.“You got it!” Bonecrusher was already transforming. Hook and Scavenger moved back. Scrapper was relieved to see that the gleam had returned to Hook’s optics. He relaxed.  
  
Revving his engine, Bonecrusher took a run at the tomb. Wreaths and other memorial objects crunched, crushed under his treads, ground into the soft dirt as he drove hard at it. There was a loud crack as his scraper struck the marble.   
  
Scrapper winced a little. It was a _Grapple_ built edifice, after all. And like all his works, it was well built. The structure shuddered, but didn’t give way.  
  
Bonecrusher backed up. Then, engine roaring, he came at it again, faster. The crack this time was audio splitting, and the concrete splintered. The structure fell apart, disintegrating into pieces. Hook chuckled softly.  
  
Chunks of marble lay everywhere, strewn among crushed flowers, caterpillar tracks and bare earth. A large piece had been flung to one side. An icy chill ran through Scrapper’s circuits, as he saw the words _Rest in Peace_ were still intact. Except that the way the moonlight was glinting off them, it looked like _Rust in Peaces …_  
  
There was no time to hang around. “Scavenger. Dig!” Scrapper ordered.  
  
……………  
  
Scavenger dug. As though his life depended on it. Large mounds of soil were dumped on the flowers, as he shut out all thoughts of Autobots, or of spirits, or of any other natural or supernatural possibility. Nothing mattered except getting this coffin out of the ground as soon as possible.  
  
 _Whatever was in it._ A new chill ran through Scavenger. Some viruses were known to mutilate, body parts rapidly decaying to a rusting, crumbling mess soon after death. Is that why the Autobots wouldn’t put Bumblebee's body on view? Some of them had wanted that, the news program had said; but Optimus Prime had refused.  
  
Scavenger hesitated, his shovel poised above the hole as horrendous possibilities filled his processor. “C’mon. Only a few more shovelfuls!” Hook sounded irritable. Impatient. Swallowing hard, Scavenger resumed digging. When it came to _the moment_ he, Scavenger, would offline his optics. Hook could deal with whatever was there - since it was obviously a source of such rapt anticipation.  
  
They had buried Bumblebee deep. At least a dozen more shovelfuls ended up next to the others. Perched on the edge of the hole, straining his shovel down, Scavenger dreaded being asked to descend into it. But then, there was the sound of metal striking metal. A shudder went through Scavenger as he realized he had hit the coffin casket lid.   
  
But that was good news. Scavenger didn’t wait for more orders. Transforming, he stepped gladly back. “I’ve done my bit” he said.  
  
“Right!” said Scrapper. Then they were all around the grave, looking down at the coffin and Scavenger, even though he _really did not want to,_ found himself looking too, a horrible fascination making it impossible to tear his optics away. The lid gleamed brightly in the moonlight, an Autobot symbol clearly visible. “All right,” Hook said delightedly. “We’re in business!”  
  
Hook transformed. It took only seconds for his crane arm to extend, for the hook to descend into the grave. There was an anxious moment when Scavenger thought Scrapper would ask _him_ to get down there and secure it; but to his relief, the leader jumped deftly down himself, fastening the hook to the edge of the slab. Then he climbed back up, and there came a graunching sound as the lid slowly opened.  
  
A tense hush descended over the Constructicons. Scavenger found himself trembling, really not wanting to look, yet compelled as by some invisible force to do so. The lid came up, up – and then it was open.  
  
Scavenger gasped. Scrapper’s jaw dropped. “What the …?” Bonecrusher said.   
  
Hook, transforming in such a way as to keep the tension on the coffin lid, gaped in similar fashion. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said. He sounded faintly disappointed, but mainly as surprised as the others.  
  
“Well,” Scrapper said eventually. “It seems the Autobots had something up their arm compartments after all.”  
  
For only the white coffin interior, the pillows and intricate padding covered in Autobot insignia stared up at them ....  
  
Its occupant was nowhere to be seen.


End file.
